Von Freeman Is Chicago Jazz History

And The World Discovers A Legend Can Continue To Expand At 70

Never mind that the man noodling on the yellowed keys of his piano doesn`t exactly look like one of the world`s reigning tenor saxophonists, at least on this particular morning.

Having gigged until the small hours the night before, tenor legend Von Freeman is just getting his day started, which invariably means heading directly to the Starck grand in his small house on the South Side of Chicago. Wearing a pair of faded jeans and a purple T-shirt-a get-up somewhat less swank than the fine suits, flashy ties and dark glasses he typically sports on the bandstand-Freeman is playing strange, dissonant, far-out chords.

His piano is laden with music, his records are strewn all over the place, his every other word concerns music.

``I`ve even got chord progressions posted up on the wall in the bathroom- I think about this stuff all the time,`` says Freeman, whose gifts finally are making him an international name-on the eve of his 70th birthday.

Earlier this year, Steeplechase Records ventured to Chicago to record Freeman for a double-CD set due out later this year. A few days ago, Jazz Midwest, a Minnesota-based organization, presented him with its prestigious Jazz Masters Award. And in a couple weeks, he`ll be ensconced at the La Villa Lounge in Paris, a tres chic club that booked him nearly a year ago for a birthday stint.

No doubt about it, Von Freeman, who turns 70 on Oct. 3, is hot.

``I guess I`d have to say that I`ve been extremely lucky in the past couple of years,`` says Freeman, who has spent most of his life blowing tenor for ``strip joints, taxi dances, vaudeville shows, comedians, jugglers, weddings, bar-mitzvahs, jazz clubs, dives, Polish dances, Jewish dances, every nationality.

``I don`t know why all this stuff is happening to me right now, because I`m surely not getting any younger. Maybe it`s because in the past couple years all these (Chicago) clubs have been pairing me with those hard-blowing kids, like Ed Petersen and Eric Schneider (both fire-breathing tenorists).

``And those guys can play. So instead of laying back and just resting, I had to really come on strong and study some more and eat some more Wheaties.

``See, when you pass 60, nine-tenths of this thing is stamina. Because you`ve got to be able to stand up and play, because nobody is going to have any mercy on you because of your age. They feel if you can`t cut it, retire.

``So you`ve got to just lean in there.``

The miracle is that Freeman has been doing precisely that for nearly all his life, long before much recognition or anything beyond subsistence pay was within reach. Somehow, says Freeman, who raised four children in the process, ``I was able to eke out a living. Guess I was lucky.``

That depends on how you define luck. Certainly Freeman was blessed as far as musical talent is concerned.

``He always was able to catch on and hear things, he could pick up piano or horn or anything so fast, it was amazing.``

And Von lucked out-as did George and their other brother, Bruz, an accomplished drummer-in that their father adored jazz.

``I got all this music by osmosis,`` says Von. ``My daddy used to play trombone-not professionally, because he was a Chicago policeman. But he had records on all the time.

``And because he was detailed at the Grand Terrace Ballroom (a fabled club of the `30s), he`d bring them all over to the house. Louis Armstrong used to come by from the time I was about three years old, and he`d always say to me: `Hi Pops.`

``Earl Hines came over, and Fats Waller played this piano of mine.``

The reigning sound of the day was the tenor saxophone, with ground-breaking melodists such as Coleman Hawkins, Lester Young and Ben Webster creating a new vocabulary for the instrument. So at age 6, Freeman taught himself tenor.

``With this music, nobody else really can teach you or tell you that much,`` says Freeman. ``You`ve got to perfect it yourself and find your own ideas of what you want to express.

``I did my first nightclub gig when I was 12-my mother had to write a note for me. She wrote: `Don`t let him drink, don`t let him smoke, don`t let him consort with those women, and make him stay in that dressing room.`

``It was a club out in Gary, and I played seven nights a week. The guy who hired me said, `Put something on your lip so you look a little older,` so I drew a mustache on.``

By the time he was a teenager, Freeman was jamming with his friends at Du Sable High School, where the legendary Capt. Walter Dyett was building one of the country`s premier jazz programs.

``Everybody in Chicago who had an instrument and wanted to play music back then tried their best to get to Du Sable,`` says Freeman.

``Like `Jug` (Gene Ammons, the great Chicago tenorist). He always had a beautiful tenor sound even then. He used to play in concert band, and he would wipe out all of the double-reeds.